


Of Elephants and Men

by PaddyWack



Category: Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them (Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Non-Magical, Graves is broody, M/M, Newt works at a zoo, we have elephants
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-12-21
Updated: 2017-12-21
Packaged: 2019-02-18 02:31:21
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,933
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13090533
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PaddyWack/pseuds/PaddyWack
Summary: He tries not to stare.Which, of course, means that he does.Quite blatantly, too.





	Of Elephants and Men

He tries not to stare.

 

Which, of course, means that he does.

 

Quite blatantly, too.

 

In his defense, however, this strange man has been showing up like clockwork for the past couple of months, always to the same enclosure, and just – stands there. Doing nothing untoward, or anything to raise any eyebrows, mind. But there he is. Just standing.

 

And staring.

 

But this is a zoo (an absolutely fantastic one, in Newt’s not so humble opinion), and so standing and staring is pretty much par for the course, really. It’s just that – well. The stranger seems to do it so _often_. And must he always come so late in the evening? The lack of light makes it incredibly difficult to get a good look at him.

 

Which Newt is only focused on because he finds this stranger and his behavior suspicious.

 

Honestly.

 

It’s not because he seems mournful, standing there all alone, the tails of his overcoat gently billowing in some imaginary breeze. Or because his entire demeanor screams of a person who has recently been utterly shattered and then sloppily put back together with scotch tape and false promises.

 

It’s not even because his quiet presence tickles that urge in Newt to help, that desperate drive to end suffering, because that particular quirk has always been reserved for the animals in his care, and not for solemn strangers loitering around the elephant habitat.

 

Except, of course, somehow, all of this is precisely why Newt, after observing this stranger with the tense shoulders and the defeated tilt of his head for weeks, edges uncertainly past the supply shed and into the man’s line of sight.

 

“Lovely creatures, aren’t they?” he says, embarrassingly aware of just how uncomfortable he sounds, and hoping the stranger doesn’t take offense. He clears his throat and hopes the tremulous smile he wears isn’t actually a grimace of pain.

 

Though, judging by the bewildered, confused frown on the man’s admittedly handsome face, Newt suspects he isn’t quite that convincing.

 

“Sorry,” he mutters, wincing at his own awkwardness and gesturing at his windbreaker with the zoo’s logo on the breast. “I take care of the elephants. And other habitats. But mostly this one.”

 

The stranger blinks and glances over at the family of lumbering elephants, and Newt thinks it shouldn’t be possible for a person to look so lost.

 

“I was about to give them a snack before closing time. Would you like to watch?”

 

The stranger shifts guarded eyes back on him and gives a tight shake of his head. “Thank you, but I should be going,” he says with a deep, gravelly voice that causes Newt’s insides to shiver in surprise. The man takes a step back, turns on his heel, and his gone before Newt can even open his mouth.

 

Well.

 

All right then.

 

*

 

In hindsight, he supposes approaching someone so aggressively (Tina’s choice of word, not his; Newt is firmly of the opinion that he exuded a friendly demeanor and spoke quietly and calmly so as not to startle the strange man, but apparently Americans are _shy_.

 

“We are not shy, Newt. Anybody would be uncomfortable if a random person popped up out of the blue and asked if they wanted to see you feed a giant wild animal like a house pet. That’s not _normal._ ”) was perhaps not the best way of introducing oneself.

 

It’s not as if he has a guide book for this type of thing – How to Make Friends With The Sad Man Watching The Elephants 101: Stalker Edition.

 

Which, to be fair, Newt does not believe his behavior constitutes as stalking, anyhow.

 

Mild over-interest, perhaps.

 

So, to try and seem not-so-aggressive and more sedate in this particular social endeavor, Newt tries again.

 

“Hello.”

 

The stranger stiffens. When he looks at Newt, recognition dawns in his steel-gray eyes and is quickly followed by a dampening expression of dread. Rather than feel embarrassed that his presence is so obviously unwanted, Newt feels himself grin, amused at the thought that someone should dislike socializing nearly as much as himself.

 

“I didn’t get a chance to introduce myself last time. My name is Newt,” he says, holding out his hand. After a brief moment of indecision, in which Newt tries not to panic, the stranger reaches out and shakes it once before letting go.

 

He looks taken aback, as if Newt has thrown him for a loop in approaching him a second time in as many weeks, and tucks both hands into the pockets of his coat. “Percival,” he replies, albeit reluctantly.

 

Newt smiles wider and nods to himself. “I didn’t mean to rush you off last time.”

 

“I had somewhere to be. I was late.” He says it a little too quickly, giving away the lie.

 

“Perhaps if you have no plans this evening…?” Newt trails, watching the stranger – _Percival_ – closely for hints of another hasty retreat.

 

There’s a caginess in his eyes – and something close to despair. This sadness is what keeps Newt stubbornly in place rather than sprinting away, what wraps a firm hold around his heartstrings and keeps his feet planted when in all honesty he would much rather escape into the enclosure with the elephants.

 

At least they are simple and easy to understand.

 

This man, Newt can see, is full of sharp edges and grief. He’s a wounded animal, in pain, and Newt cannot quell the overwhelming urge to help.

 

Percival looks distinctly uncomfortable as he turns his attention back to the elephants, as if seeking rescue from Newt’s insistence. Newt takes a few leading steps away in the direction of the supply shed that opens back out into the habitat.

 

“They love a crowd,” he says, gesturing toward the curious beasts gazing back in their direction. “They were circus elephants before. A rescue group found them in Malaysia half-starved and nearly beaten to death.”

 

Percival’s expression twists, appalled. “I hope there was some action taken against their handlers.”

 

Newt shrugs, hand resting on the door to the shed. “It’s unlikely. Not many people there care about that kind of thing. But,” he opens the door and slips halfway inside, smiling encouragingly. “They still love to show off for visitors, despite their abusive past. Would you care to see?”

 

Percival, despite his obvious misgivings with sticking around, nods slowly. “All right.” His shoulders seem to tense even more, bracing for something, and Newt absentmindedly wonders how hard it will be to battle those defensive walls and break through to the other side. “But only for a little while.”

 

Newt grins and disappears.

 

*

 

Ellie greets him first with a pleased trumpet, and wanders over from the watering hole. Behind her races little Priya, great ear flaps perked forward and looking too large for her body. When she reaches him, he obligingly rubs an ear and croons.

 

“You’ll grow into them eventually, sweetheart,” he promises, reaching with his free hand to pat Ellie on her side as she passes by toward the door, aware of the bucket full of carrots and apples waiting on the other side.

 

He snickers at her reproachful, moist brown eyes and nods. “Yes, yes. Right to it then, old girl.”

 

He breaks away from Priya to retrieve the bucket and offers a carrot to each of them in turn, craning his neck to look for their adopted brother and the last of the group, Raja. He usually chooses to stick near the far end of the enclosure where he can stay out of sight behind the rock wall. He, out of all three of the elephants, has had the most trouble adjusting to their new life.

 

But when Newt looks for him, he isn’t in his usual spot. He frowns and feeds the girls more carrots as he scans the habitat, finally spotting Raja’s hulking figure near the observation bridge. And, there, hands still tucked into the pockets of his ridiculous coat, is Percival.

 

He’s near the middle of the bridge looking down, and Raja stands below him gazing up, and it appears as if they are caught up in their own silent conversation. It’s the familiarity of it that strikes Newt at first. As if they have met many nights before this and simply enjoyed the other’s quiet company.

 

Newt’s stomach somersaults, giddy at such a show of interest on Raja’s part, and flustered by the sudden intense attraction he feels toward this sad man who spends his evenings staring at elephants.

 

“ _Umph!_ ” he grunts, drawn from his distracting thoughts in an instant as Ellie shoves the end of her trunk into his face with an impatient snuffle. He reels backwards and Priya flaps her ears beside him, ‘laughing’ as she tips her trunk back and curls it against her own forehead.

 

Newt, thoroughly flushed and feeling distinctly flummoxed, straightens and leads the girls closer to the bridge for Percival to see. Once he’s near enough, he turns back toward them and sweeps his arms out in a grand gesture.

 

They each drop into a kneeling position, sweeping their trunks down in front for a formal bow. When they straighten back up, he offers them apples this time, because it’s their favorite and he wants to save the carrots for Raja. Then, without any prompting, Ellie and Priya parade around each other in a choreographed step-dance he assumes was learned during their circus days. He grins and applauds. They each trumpet back a happy sound and finish the dance holding trunks.

 

Finally, taking turns, they approach Newt and finish the show by offering him a foot to high five, and snatching the last of the apples from his palms. He rubs their rough skin and lets them pet him in turn, struggling to stay upright under their affectionate assault.

 

From the corner of his eye, he can see Percival leaning forward on the bridge’s support ropes, more relaxed than he’s ever seen him in the past handful of months during these strange visits. The sight causes his stomach to flutter again, and he gives Ellie a final pat in farewell before turning toward Raja.

 

The gentle giant is very still and watches Newt approach with a wary eye. Newt avoids meeting his gaze and instead offers up a fistful of whole carrots when he is close enough. There’s a moment of hesitation that reminds Newt strongly of Percival’s own display of mistrust, and then, like Percival, Raja tentatively reaches out and accepts the gift.

 

He smiles sadly, wishing he could reassure Raja by touch. Doing so would probably do more harm than good, though, and so Newt settles for murmuring softly and backing away toward the habitat’s entrance. Raja keeps an eye on him until he is an acceptable distance away, and then dismissively turns his back on Newt and Percival both in favor of his spot near the rock wall.

 

“Thank you,” Percival says when Newt finally joins him again on the bridge a few moments later, a small smile curling the edges of his stern mouth.

 

“I should be the one thanking you,” he replies a little breathlessly, still baffled by Raja’s earlier display. Newt has the insane urge to hug this man, to express his gratitude in bringing Raja out of his shell. Something that had seemed so impossible and heartbreaking in the beginning, now made possible by a complete stranger. “Raja has been so isolated – it’s wonderful to see him showing an interest in something. In someone, I should say.”

 

Percival hums a noncommittal sound and looks down at his shoes, and Newt watches in dismay as the now-familiar grief slowly starts to creep back onto Percival’s shoulders, like a mantle of quiet suffering.

 

Helpless, he casts around for something, anything, some excuse or reason, to bring back that small, genuine little smile before the sadness can manage to swallow Percival entirely.

 

But he’s not quick enough, and Percival is opening his mouth to speak, not looking Newt in the eye, and turning away as he says, “I should be – “

 

“Would you like to have tea with me?” Newt blurts.

 

Percival blinks.

 

Newt ponders the symptoms of early onset heart failure.

 

“Er – I mean. That is. I suppose it would be coffee, wouldn’t it?” He huffs and inwardly bemoans the amount of forethought that is required to function as a normal human being. He feels his face heat up, but rather than attempt to stuff the words back down his clogged throat, he swallows thickly and offers a shy, worried little smile. “Terribly sorry. Sometimes I forget where I am – but. Would you – coffee? With me.”

 

Percival looks as if someone has wrapped a garrote around his throat, and Newt wonders wildly, _Good Lord_ , do they still hang people in America? It’s only when Percival takes a breath, apparently having processed the question and decided that, yes, it does indeed require an answer, that Newt thinks – no, he’s fairly certain they stopped hangings in the 60’s.

 

“I – sorry?” Percival flounders, apparently so caught off guard that, actually, he can’t manage to formulate an answer after all.

 

Newt wishes he could disappear, or turn to liquid and melt down between the floorboards of the bridge and back into the elephant enclosure.

 

Why is this so _difficult?_

 

“I apologize,” Newt stammers, deciding that a tactical retreat is desperately needed, and is quite possibly the only solution for preserving what little dignity he has left. “That was quite forward – please forgive me. I’ll just be going.” He jerks his head in a decisive nod of confirmation of his own actions. “Now. Right.” He steps away. “Thank you.” And flees.

 

*

 

Newt avoids the elephant habitat for exactly two weeks before guilt has him trudging back with jangled nerves and a dreadful stomachache. Queenie smiles and taps him on the nose as she relinquishes the post, happy to pick up the slack, but eager to resume her place in the nursery – which just so happens to be near the zoo’s sweets shop.

 

And, by extension, the shop’s baker, Jacob.

 

Newt suspects she’s more excited about the latter.

 

As he resumes his normal schedule he discovers, much to his chagrin, that elephants (in particular, Ellie) are more than capable of holding a nasty grudge as a result of speedy, impersonal visits rather than long hours of attention and ear scratches that are part of the usual routine.

 

It takes all morning and most of the afternoon – not to mention a number of smuggled carrot buckets that he’s pretty sure were meant as snacks for the rhinos – before Ellie so much as looks in his direction. Priya, on the other hand, spends the entire day with her trunk firmly shoved in Newt’s pocket and stubbornly refusing to let him go absolutely anywhere without her.

 

Raja, predictably, stays near the wall and pretends Newt doesn’t exist.

 

As evening begins to creep in, darkening the sky to a lovely pinkish-orange, he starts to feel a little panicky. His eyes dart around, unbidden, dreading but also anticipating a glimpse of sad eyes and stiff shoulders.

 

He wavers between convincing himself the entire episode was imagined, he couldn’t possibly have asked Percival on a – a _date_ ; that would be ludicrous – and being consumed by absolute horror because he most certainly asked Percival on a date.

 

“Good gracious,” he says aloud, staring down at Priya. Her head tilts curiously at his mortified tone. “I’ve lost my mind.”

 

Before Newt can properly appreciate this wonderful new epiphany regarding his psyche, however, he sees Raja near the rocks suddenly tossing his head and ambling toward the other side of the habitat with a purpose. Newt doesn’t need to guess what has captured his interest.

 

He scrambles for cover just as Percival steps out onto the bridge over the enclosure.

 

Though it has only been a few short weeks, Newt finds he is still thrown by the sight of him. The severe haircut, the dark, billowing coat that seems more appropriate for a funeral rather than an evening stroll through the zoo, and the purposeful stiffness of his shoulders as he leans against the support ropes to look down at Raja, cause Newt’s pulse to stutter in his chest like a frightened bird’s wings.

 

Exasperated, Newt slumps against the enclosure’s fence, shielded from view behind a prickly scrub brush, and watches Percival glance listlessly around the habitat. Even from this distance, Newt can see the slight furrow that pulls Percival’s perfect eyebrows into a disappointed frown, mouth downturned in such a way that suggests he had been expecting to find something, only to have it nowhere in sight.

 

Newt’s heart flips.

 

A burst of selfish hope goes off in his chest like a firecracker, and he has to bite his lip to keep from doing something irrational. Like waving or drawing attention in some other way to his hiding place, because there’s absolutely no reason to believe Percival had been searching for _him_.

 

There’s no reason to believe he had been searching for anything, really, let alone the quirky, pushy zoo attendant that has insistently harassed his person each time he’s come near the elephants for the past month.

 

Newt muffles a groan and buries his face in his hands.

 

He honestly should work harder on his social skills.

 

And, he thinks, albeit belatedly, and with not a small amount of panic, also his _stern_ voice.

 

Because his _stern_ voice does nothing in stopping Priya’s stubborn (successful) attempt of yanking him back out into the open by way of his blasted pocket, presumably because, as an adolescent, she has no patience whatsoever for Newt’s brooding over tall, dark, and handsome strangers who carry around enough emotional baggage to outweigh herself, Ellie, and Raja combined.

 

Newt makes a wild grab for the fence, or the bush, he isn’t entirely sure, and ends up sprawled in the dirt as Priya tugs him sloppily out of reach with her impressive baby elephant strength. There’s a brief moment in which Newt thoroughly berates himself for not taking that position with National Geographic last summer, but he immediately takes it back because, even though Priya is out to single handedly sabotage his (potential) love life (see: lack thereof), he’s _mostly_ sure she doesn’t mean it.

 

Of course, that could just be his maternal instincts being ignorantly hopeful.

 

After a brief scuffle, Newt finds himself sprawled on his back as Priya huffs an accomplished snort and pats him consolingly on the cheek as he stares up at the darkening sky. The evening is painfully silent. Bracing himself, Newt tips his head back and, after a moment, locks eyes with Percival’s utterly baffled expression. Beneath the bridge, Raja is slowly shaking his great head back and forth, as if the situation has him equally disturbed.

 

Wonderful.

 

Newt raises his hand in a jaunty wave, because at this point he figures he has nothing to lose, and Percival returns it with a tentative quirk of his wrist.

 

“You,” he mutters under his breath, giving Priya what he hopes to be his most severe and reprimanding frown as he stands and dusts himself off. “Are positively incorrigible. No snacks for a week. Perhaps ever again.”

 

She merely flicks her tail in response.

 

*

 

It takes some clever maneuvering and, of course, bribing with treats, before Priya is content to let Newt leave her sight and exit the habitat for the night. He takes a moment to collect himself in the shed and pick the worst of the shrubbery off his clothes. There’s a tear in the hem of his wind breaker and the knees of his trousers are scuffed beyond repair, but he stiffens his spine all the same and takes a deep breath as he confidently swings the exit door open and –

 

curls his shoulders forward, ducks his head, and struggles impressively with the strongest surge of awkwardness he has ever felt in his life to date.

 

Percival straightens from the fence post he had been leaning against, obviously waiting just outside for Newt to reappear, and approaches slowly, uncertain. Newt watches him from the corner of his eye with the same amount of trepidation.

 

“Are you all right?”

 

Newt shoots a series of glances his way in surprise. “Yes,” he stammers. “I was just. Yes. I am, thank you.”

 

He stops a respectable distance away and puts his hands in the pockets of his coat. Again, Newt finds it difficult not to gawk at this devastatingly handsome man before him; broad shoulders and dark, unfathomable eyes turning his insides to liquid heat.

 

Oh, but that hidden grief is still so evident, and Newt has to grab his own wrist to keep from reaching out, from trying to fix whatever is wrong. Like Raja, Newt suspects his touch would not be welcome.

 

Percival clears his throat and gestures vaguely toward the elephants. “I haven’t seen you lately.”

 

That selfish hope springs to life again, and this time Newt manages to keep his gaze steady when he looks at Percival. “I was working in the nursery,” he answers carefully. “A new baby platypus was brought in. I volunteered to foster until a proper sanctuary could be established.” He bites his lip and decides to take a risk. “Were…you looking for me?”

 

Newt can see the reflexive denial spring to the tip of Percival’s tongue, and he braces himself for yet another rejection. Rather than deliver the fatal blow, however, Newt watches, dumbfounded, as Percival’s mouth curls into the barest ghost of a smile and his shoulder lifts in a helpless shrug.

 

“Actually,” he says. “Yes, I was.”

 

“I’m sorry to have kept you waiting,” Newt manages after an absurdly long pause, tripping and stuttering over his own words. “How can I. Ah. Be of service?”

 

Percival chuckles quietly and rubs his mouth with a distracted hand, hiding an amused smile. Newt swallows thickly as those curiously warm eyes regard him with quiet, thoughtful intensity. After a moment, Percival hums decisively to himself and steps closer, past that invisible barrier of respectability, and reaches out to pluck free a piece of scrub that had been clinging to Newt’s windblown hair.

 

It takes not a small amount of discipline to remain as still as he does, and Newt feels his traitorous face begin to redden at the proximity. And then, rather than pull away after dropping the offensive twig, Newt feels those elegant fingers linger, almost petting the soft hairs by his ear, before faintly tracing down his face and away like a whisper.

 

“I’m not very good at this,” Percival says, rocking back on his heels, and he suddenly looks very unsure of himself again, nervous, where just a second ago Newt believed him to be an immovable force of certainty. “Would you…like to have coffee with me?” He asks slowly, as if he’s reluctant of Newt’s answer, and adopts a pinched look when Newt once again lapses into stunned silence.

 

“That – sounds wonderful,” Newt finally says in a rush, huffing out a laugh at Percival’s look of complete and total relief. “Yes. I would – I would like that very much, actually.”

 

Percival tips his head forward, and that small, pleased little smile is back, breaking through the strain of black grief and self-doubt like a beacon. Newt feels his pulse flutter. He vows silently then, to the small space between them, that whatever causes this – this heartbreaking sadness that lurks so incessantly in the depths of Percival’s eyes and at the edges of his smile – that Newt will do everything that is humanly possible to keep it from ever becoming too much to bear.

**Author's Note:**

> Second part in the works - includes Graves' POV and explanations :'D


End file.
